


Memory Lapse

by Molly



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Slash, humor first-time season:two, sentinel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-21
Updated: 2008-09-21
Packaged: 2017-10-02 00:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Molly/pseuds/Molly





	Memory Lapse

Class had been in session for about twenty minutes when they arrived, and all Blair could do was watch as they filed into the back row of seats. His cheeks reddened as his two worlds collided, personified by thirty bored freshmen and five burly, dangerous-looking, grinning cops. His first thought -- oh, god, I'm wearing a tie and I will _never_ live this down -- was quickly superseded by curiosity.

_Okay, I'm either being arrested for failure to bring the joy of Anthropology into the hearts of the football team and the cheerleading squad, or set up for something that will no doubt embarrass the hell out of me._

Ah, well. He was fairly mortified already, standing mute before his class and staring like an idiot, and it hadn't killed him so far. He might as well play along.

"Thank you for joining us, gentlemen," he said dryly, staring directly at each of the detectives in turn. His eyes lingered longest on Jim Ellison, and a slight smile tilted one corner of his lips.

"No problem, teach," Jim drawled, leaning back in his chair. "Carry on -- please!"

Blair tried not to notice the way the thin cotton of Jim's black T-shirt stretched over the muscles beneath, molding itself to his body. Failing that, he tried to calm the racing of his heart; Jim was probably listening.

Jim, and everybody else for that matter; the pounding in his ears seemed so loud even unenhanced senses could probably pick up on it.

Shaking his head, Blair glanced down at the index cards on the wooden podium in front of him and tried to focus on his spidery handwriting. It wasn't easy, knowing he was the center of Jim's attention. The attention of a Sentinel was not to be scoffed at; it was all-encompassing, and Blair could feel the scrutiny like a rising tide of red heat in the pit of his stomach. Clearing his throat, he marshaled his defenses against the familiar longing and tucked it into the very back of his mind. That was where it belonged, and where it would have to stay. A man like Jim was not for the likes of Blair Sandburg.

"As I was saying," Blair said, his voice soft at first but slowly gaining strength, "the science of Anthropology is a holistic one--"

A hand raised quickly in the back of the room, and Blair stifled a sigh. _So it begins,_ he intoned silently, for his own amusement. "Yes, Ryf?"

"Uh -- can you define holistic, Hair--uh, Professor Sandburg?"

Fixing Ryf with the practiced glare of a teacher totally unimpressed with the intellect of a student, Blair waited just long enough for the detective to begin to feel uncomfortable. "I usually expect my students to read their assignments before coming to lecture," he said finally, sternly, "but when that's not possible, I'm always happy to explain the larger words."

A wave of laughter rose from the class, and a slow, rosy blush decorated Ryf's cheeks.

"Holistic -- Do you need that spelled for you, Ryf? No? -- refers to interconnectedness. Anthropology integrates many disciplines to provide a grand view of mankind as a whole, past and present, near and far."

Blair waited, watching the men of Major Crime intently. None appeared willing to step into the hotseat Ryf had just vacated.

"Which brings us to the subdisciplines," Blair said more easily, feeling better now that the first round was over. "In the United States, there are four. Can anyone tell me what those are?" He scanned the room, noting that not a single hand was raised. "Mr. Ellison?" he said, hiding a grin.

_I'm going to pay for this in blood,_ Blair thought, _but man, it's going to be worth it...you do NOT mess with an anthropologist on his own turf._

No one was more surprised than Blair when Jim smiled, and reeled off the answer liked he'd known it all his life. "Physical, Cultural, Linguistic, and Archaeology."

"Whoa," Blair said involuntarily, grinning. "Not half bad."

"Some of us can read," Jim said.

"I'd heard rumors to that effect, but they were largely unsubstantiated." Blair and Jim shared a grin across the classroom. Blair couldn't help it; there was a look of pleased pride on his partner's face that went straight to his heart. He wondered when Jim had found time to read the chapter -- or, for that matter, how he'd known what had been assigned.

_And why he'd cared,_ Blair mused, his smile dimming a little as his brow furrowed. It wasn't typical Ellison behavior, and Blair would know -- he'd spent the past three years studying it.

The lecture continued, with most of the questions coming from the detectives as the minutes flew by. Blair couldn't contain the proud smile that threatened as they were drawn into the subject matter. The guys had surely arrived just to make his life miserable -- no doubt put up to the stunt by his housemate and erstwhile friend, Blair reflected with an inward grin -- but after a while they really got into it. Even Simon had a few questions about evolution and the advent of bipedalism that came damn close to being insightful. When the bell finally rang, Blair found himself regretting that the lecture was over. Not even when Brown slipped and called him Hairboy did his enthusiasm falter, though he suspected that name was going to be on the lips of half the campus by dinnertime. The guys had never seen him in his element -- he was just a kid, bright but slightly annoying, something almost like a mascot for the department. It was great to see them hooked by his favorite topic, even just for a few minutes. He had no doubt he'd just earned major points for himself.

The students filtered out, only a few stopping to ask questions. Most of those questions dealt with the number of allowed absences, and Blair had to stifle a twinge of irritation. They were kids, he reminded himself. He could be the best instructor in the department -- and in his heart of hearts Blair was fairly sure he was -- and they'd still be thinking of nothing but lunch at eleven in the morning. When all of his actual students had left -- "fled" might be a more accurate term -- he found himself face to face with the other half of his life.

"Okay," he said, grinning. "What was the plan? Catch me unprepared with your brilliant inquiries? Stare menacingly until I broke down and begged you to leave? What?" Ryf at least had the grace to blush at the first guess, and Blair knew he'd hit gold. He shook his head. "Nice try. Didn't Jim tell you I could teach this class in my sleep?"

"Wish you'd taught it in _my_ sleep," Simon grumbled half-heartedly.

"Can we go to lunch now?" Joel Taggart asked. "Thinking makes me hungry."

"Breathing makes you hungry, Big Guy," Jim said. "You ready, Sandburg? This one's on us."

Blair's eyebrows shot up, colliding with his hairline. "You have _got_ to be kidding. You guys are taking me to lunch?"

Jim laid a hand on Blair's blazer-clad shoulder, squeezing gently as he guided his partner toward the door. "We are," he said succinctly, snagging Blair's backpack as he passed the podium. "Let's go, Chief."

Confused, but nowhere near arguing, Blair let himself be led from the room.

  
   


* * *

  
   


Blair couldn't stop moving, bouncing even as he belted himself into the front passenger seat of the Expedition. Something was up, it was a surprise, and it was for him. If the look on Jim's face -- smug and sinister at once -- was any indication, he had every reason to be both excited and terrified. The anticipation was driving him nuts. He pelted Jim with questions as they pulled away from the University, but the detective gave nothing away.

"C'mon, Jim," he wheedled. It wasn't a tone of voice he was particularly fond of, but it almost always worked. Blair suspected Jim caved in to it most of the time just because it was so annoying.

He shrugged internally, hiding a smile. Whatever worked.

"I'm dying here. It's not my birthday. It's not Christmas. What's going on? You know you want to spill it, Ellison. Give it up."

Jim just shook his head. "Give it a rest, Sandburg," he said. "I'm sworn to secrecy."

"Was this your idea?"

Jim blushed. Blushed! Wow. Blair hadn't seen Jim's cheeks that red since ...well...never. "No," Jim said shortly.

Blair's forehead creased, and his smile faded. There was pain in Jim's voice. It hadn't been there a moment before -- or if it had, Blair hadn't heard it. Blair wanted to reach out and touch his friend, to offer some kind of comfort, but he didn't trust himself. Too much had been bottled up for too long -- Blair shied away from anything but the most casual contact, afraid he'd give himself away. To reach out to Jim now would be woefully stupid.

But he couldn't help himself.

"Jim." He laid his hand gently on his partner's arm, nearly trembling with the effort to keep it friendly. "What's up, man?"

"Nothing. Forget about it." The arm under Blair's hand went rigid, almost a flinch.

Blair pulled away, back to his own side of the truck. "I can't," he said, striving for a reasonable tone. "Something just happened in that stoic little heart of yours, and I want to know what it was."

"My stoic little heart is none of your concern, Sandburg," Jim said roughly.

"Like hell it isn't," Blair snapped. That muscle in Jim's jaw was jumping, which couldn't mean anything good, and his mood seemed to have darkened considerably. "As long as we're friends and partners, everything about you is my concern. Come on, Jim," he said, his voice low and urgent. "Every defense in your arsenal just slammed into place. Talk to me. What's going on?"

"Nothing for you to worry about, Chief," Jim said, a patently plastic smile failing utterly to reassure Blair. "Here we are. You ready to face the music?"

"Uh-uh," Blair said, grabbing Jim's arm as he moved to turn off the ignition. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on."

"The guys are waiting, Sandburg," Jim said, twisting free and grabbing his keys. "Doesn't pay to be rude to guys with guns."

Without another word, Jim climbed out of the truck and headed for the restaurant, not even checking to see if Blair were behind him.

_Why would he?_ Blair thought, exasperated. _Where else would I be?_

  
   


* * *

  
   


"'Bout time you showed up," Simon said as Jim pushed through the glass doors and into Chez Rene's. "Take the scenic route?"

"Wanted to give you guys time to set up," Jim said, scanning the room for the other detectives. "Blair is right behind me. Everything ready?"

"Hey, whose idea was this?" Simon replied.

Jim winced. "Don't remind me." Bad enough that he'd completely forgotten about it; that Simon, of all people, should have remembered and swung this plan into action was almost beyond endurance.

"You've had a lot on your mind, Jim," said Simon. "Let it go."

"I just still can't believe I _forgot_," Jim said. "God, Simon. What kind of friend am I? What kind of--"

"Yeah?"

"Nothing," Jim said firmly. "Nevermind."

All he needed was for Simon to start speculating about his relationship with Sandburg. It was bad enough that _he_ was speculating about it.

Speculating a lot. Almost constantly, in fact.

Then again...maybe the term "fantasizing" would've been more accurate.

But none of it mattered. Blair didn't swing that way, and besides, even if he did, Jim didn't deserve him. God, where was his brain? How could he have _forgotten_ something so important?

"Hey." A gentle hand on his arm brought Jim out of his reverie. His eyes focused, finding a bright blue gaze fixed intently on his face. The concern there just made it worse; Blair was always there for him, always trying to make things easier, better. And Jim rewarded him with -- what? Attitude, dismissal, whatever it took to keep his real feelings hidden. He couldn't have Blair's love, but he'd be damned if he was letting go of the man's friendship.

Ironic that the only way he could keep Blair from bolting was to keep him at a distance. If the kid knew what Jim really wanted from him, he'd break lightspeed to get away.

At least this way the departure would be slow. Jim could keep him in sight.

"You all right, Jim?"

_No,_ Jim thought, almost projecting it. _Not even a little bit._ "Yeah," he said. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Thought you were zoning, man," Blair said quietly. "You had that look."

"I was trying to figure out how to get rid of you tonight," Jim said, the first thing that came to mind. "I have a date."

Blair flinched back as if he'd been struck, and Jim's heart broke. "Wait," he said, trying to fix things, knowing he'd pushed too hard. "Blair, I--"

"All you had to do was ask, man," Blair said, his voice as cold as his eyes were hot. High spots of color reddened cheeks that had gone pale with hurt and anger. "Watch my dust."

He turned on his heel and headed for the back of the room, where the rest of the detectives were waiting for them.

"Great job, Ellison," Jim muttered in disgust as he followed. "Great fucking job."

  
   


* * *

  
   


It took every ounce of willpower Blair possessed to smile as he approached the table. The last thing he needed was a lot of questions about whether he was okay and what Jim had done to piss him off this time. He plastered on a fake grin and made sure everyone saw it, fairly certain the only person who knew him well enough to see _through_ it was the one who'd made it necessary in the first place.

It wasn't like he was in denial or anything. He wasn't entertaining hopes that Jim would one day go down on one knee and either profess undying love or give him the blow job of a lifetime. Either event would probably give him a heart attack anyway. Still, Jim could've been a little less blunt. Having a live-in anthropologist wasn't at the top of Jim's list of fun ways to spend a lifetime, but geez -- did he have to spend so much effort making sure Blair knew it?

Blair pushed away the ache that tightened his chest and constricted his lungs. He did it with the ease and skill of long practice. "So," he said, taking a seat between Simon and Ryf, one conspicuously far from the pair of empty seats near the head of the table. "Chez Rene's? You guys are scaring me."

Simon frowned. "You're afraid of French cuisine?"

Grinning, Blair shook his head. He was about to answer when Brown stepped in for him.

"This is the relationship place, Captain," he said. "People come here to either break up or get engaged."

Simon's eyebrows climbed his forehead. "That's crazy. It's a perfectly good restaurant. A family place."

"It's the relationship place, Simon," Blair said. He steadfastly refused to look at Jim, instead fixing the captain with a teasing gaze. "What's it going to be?"

Simon's lip curled as he rolled his eyes. "Don't get any ideas, Sandburg," he said. "You're not my type."

_Thank God for small favors,_ Blair thought, smiling with genuine amusement. _I've got enough problems._

  
   


* * *

  
   


Nothing was said about the reason behind the gathering as food was ordered, delivered, and rapidly consumed. There wasn't much that could get between a cop and his lunch, and even less that was inclined to make the attempt. Blair knew better than to expect an explanation before the check arrived, which was why he was utterly stunned when, just before dessert, Simon stood up and called for attention.

Blair glanced over at Jim out of habit, relying on that silent communication that often ran between them to give him some insight into what was going on. He found Jim's eyes already locked onto him, unwavering. He met the look unflinchingly, not bothering to conceal the hurt that still twisted in his heart. For just that moment, he didn't care if Jim knew how he felt.

The detective frowned, his eyes narrowing. His mouth opened as if he were going to speak, as if there were something to say -- and then closed again.

Blair nodded silently, feeling something tighten in his chest. Jim was readying the inevitable apology. It was just as well they still had the rest of this thing to sit through. He didn't want Jim salving his conscience anytime soon. 'Sorry' was wearing pretty thin lately.

"Okay," Simon said. "I suppose you're all -- okay, one of you, anyway -- wondering why we're all donating our precious time to buying an expensive lunch for a guy with longer hair than most of our girlfriends."

Brown snickered, mouthing "Hairboy" at Blair, who wadded up a napkin and threw it with unerring aim.

"Thanks," Brown said, grabbing it out of the air and tucking it into the collar of his shirt. "You're just too good to me, Sandburg."

"_AS_ I was saying," Simon continued, a deadly glare putting at least a temporary halt to the entertainment portion of the luncheon, "We actually _do_ have a purpose here, and I'm afraid it's not an entirely pleasant one."

Blair's eyes widened. Not pleasant? What--? Again, his eyes sought out Jim's, only to be rewarded with an impassive stare and a quick shrug. If Jim knew what was going on, he wasn't revealing it by expression or action.

"Today, it has been exactly three years since Blair Sandburg showed up in my office with the biggest line of bullshit it has ever been my pleasure to witness." Simon shook his head, grinning. "And it's only gotten worse since then, I can tell you."

"Give the kid a break," Joel said from Simon's side. "He doesn't lie or anything..."

"Yeah," Ryf said, smirking. "He embellishes."

"Obfuscates," Brown added.

Blair's grin was real, but slightly nervous. "Can you spell that?" he inquired, feigning curiosity.

For that, he got his napkin thrown back at him.

"Three years," Simon repeated. "And...the end of an era. I'm sorry, Blair," he said, his voice going soft with regret. "I fought like hell to keep you on as an observer with the department, but..."

Blair froze in his chair, his eyes going wide. What was Simon saying? God, was this it? Just like that, he was out? No, damn it, he would _not_ look at Jim Ellison for support again. He'd learned his lesson.

He looked anyway.

Jim's expression was a study in granite.

No help there.

Heart sinking, Blair turned toward Simon, bracing himself for the rest of it.

"There was nothing I could do, kid," Simon said.

"It's okay, Simon." Surprisingly, Blair's voice was firm. He'd expected tremors, maybe a crack in it. Hell, maybe even hysterics.

"The role you've played in the department has so far exceeded that of an observer that the higher-ups have forced me to make a change. I'm afraid you're going to have to deal with being a paid consultant..." Simon stopped in mid sentence. "Sandburg? You okay?"

Blair's face had gone bright red; he could feel the heat radiating from his face and knew he had to look something like a lobster. Suddenly, he was having trouble breathing. "Oh, man," he said quickly. A few deep breaths, then, "That was so harsh, Simon..."

The captain grinned, utterly pleased with himself. "One good line of bullshit deserves another, Sandburg," Simon said.

Blair shook his head, a similar grin cutting through his disbelief. "Are you serious? This is, like, official now?"

"Yeah," Jim said suddenly. Blair's head whipped around. "Now you get _paid_ to annoy me."

_Now I get to stay with you. Now they can't make me leave you._ Blair laughed out loud, a sound filled with delight. Jim responded to the sound with a small, slow smile, and Blair's heart lifted. "A dream come true," he said.

"Catch, Sandburg." Blair glanced up just in time to snatch a small, square package out of the air. Simon nodded encouragingly. "Open it already," he said. "In twenty minutes you go on the clock."

"Simon, I was going to be grading papers this afternoon..."

"Yeah? Well, your going to be filling _out_ papers, instead."

With hands kept steady by an effort of iron will, Blair stripped the paper away from the package and lifted off the lid.

His breath caught in his throat. He hadn't thought -- he hadn't even dreamed -- anything like this would ever happen. The cop gig was just a side thing, it was just for Jim, it wasn't really even a job....

...But now it was stunningly, solidly real, embodied by the shiny gold shield nestled against white cotton inside the box.

Blair couldn't speak. He looked at Jim, and then Simon, and then each of the men around the table, his eyes full of what he couldn't say.

"Aw, man," Ryf said with mock disgust. "He's gonna start bawling. Somebody give him a tissue."

Five napkins hit Blair at once, a shower of white linen, one of them landing precariously on top of his dark brown curls and dangling into one eye.

"Way to make the moment," Blair said. "What's for dessert?"

  
   


* * *

  
   


Simon's threats proved empty; Blair wasn't officially on the payroll until the following Monday, and in a gesture of rare goodwill, the Captain gave the partners the afternoon and Friday off.

The ride back to the loft was quiet. Jim couldn't believe Sandburg didn't have anything to say, but the silence itself was eloquent. The brief moment of exhilaration had connected them, even through their interrupted argument, but that connection had faded. Blair stared out the window as glass and concrete flashed by, seeming a thousand miles away. Without a trace of guilt, Jim zeroed in on his partner's heart rate.

It was steady, but fast; the kid was still mad at him. Not that he didn't have a right, but Blair's anger was usually like quicksilver, impossible to hold on to. It bothered Jim that the younger man's temper was holding; it wasn't like him. It wasn't Blair. He'd seemed so happy back at the restaurant, Jim had been sure the tension between them couldn't withstand Blair's good mood.

Wrong again. Jim just couldn't get it right with Blair, no matter how hard he tried.

He pulled into the parking garage and found a spot near the stairs. He turned off the ignition, making no move to leave the truck. Blair was also still, as if he hadn't even noticed their arrival.

"I'm sorry," Jim said, his voice low. "I didn't mean to hurt you, Chief." Just to put some space between us, but God...not _this_ much...

Blair nodded slowly. "You never do," he said.

Jim winced. "I deserved that. Look -- I was mad at myself, okay? I took it out on you. I don't have any excuse for that."

Blair turned finally, his calm blue eyes both distant and watchful. "Mad at yourself for what, Jim?"

"The whole lunch thing. The consultant thing. It was all Simon's doing. I had nothing to do with it, Blair."

Blair blinked. "Yeah? And?"

"And...? And I'm a jerk. I forgot about it, okay? I had no idea it'd been three years today. I didn't know until Simon rounded us up for lunch."

Blair's eyebrows rose, and he started to smile. "_THAT_ is what's been bugging you? That's why you've been such a bear? Oh, god. Jim, _I_ didn't even know."

"That's not the point."

"Then what is the point? Jim, you're my partner, not my secretary. It's not your job to keep track of the important dates in my life."

Jim sighed, fixing his eyes on the steering wheel. "What about the important dates in _my_ life? You'd think I could keep track of those, wouldn't you?"

"Oh, yeah. A scrawny anthropologist worms his way into your life and your career and turns it upside down and you're supposed to what, make an anniversary out of it? I don't think so, Jim."

"Cut that out."

"Cut _what_ out?"

"Putting yourself down like that. Damn it, Blair, the day you showed up in my life was -- It was important, okay? You're important. I won't have you making light of it." Jim's hands were tight on the steering wheel, his eyes staring straight ahead. He was angry, at Blair for underestimating his value and at himself for creating the atmosphere that allowed the kid to do it.

Blair was silent for a moment, his eyes wide. "So...okay, you're saying...you're not so mad I'm still around?"

Jim could hear his Guide's heart rate picking up speed, which set his own racing.

"I'm saying you're where you belong, and I don't think I ever told you that, and I'm sorry." He bit the words out quickly, before he lost his nerve. "I should've let you know sooner. It's just so hard to say things like that to you when--"

Blair's eyes were very, very blue. They met Jim's with heart-stopping intensity. "When what, Jim?" he asked softly.

There didn't seem to be enough air in the truck. Either that, or Jim's lungs weren't working properly. What he saw in Blair's eyes at that moment was surely wishful thinking, wasn't it? Surely the kid wasn't leaning toward him like that for the reasons he hoped, surely....

"When there's just so much more I can't say," Jim said finally, his voice rough, almost hoarse. He could no more have stopped the words than he could stop his own heart. "So much I can't tell you..."

Jim closed his eyes and his mouth at the same time, clamping down on his run-away emotions. God, was he insane? He'd blown it, he knew he had, he'd ruined everything because he was too weak to hang back...

Too weak to hold on just a few more minutes until the intensity faded, until he could get himself under control again and be the friend, the partner, the Sentinel...

A gentle hand ghosted over Jim's brow, down the side of his face, to cup his jaw. "Tell me now," Blair said softly.

The warm wash of breath against his lips was startling, and Jim's eyes flew open. Blair was inches from him, and the distance was closing, and oh, god, don't look at his mouth...

Too late.

A groan erupted from the depths of Jim's chest. "Blair," he said unsteadily, voice shaking with the effort required to keep still. "You'd...you'd better be sure about this..."

"Oh, man," Blair said, his own voice a mere whisper. "Are you kidding?"

  
   


* * *

  
   


From the first touch, Blair was in control. He had to be; Jim was in no condition.

The kiss was gentle, sweet, loving...for perhaps three seconds, as the shock wore off.

Then...then it became dangerous. Blair ran a tongue over Jim's lower lip, a warning more than a question, then opened the older mans mouth with it, thrusting deep inside. Hands gentle but firm, he tilted Jim's head, finding the perfect angle and then using it to his best advantage, drawing Jim's tongue forth to duel with his own. A moan that could've come from either one of them sounded in Blair's ears, and he felt himself growing desperate. He wanted Jim, wanted him immediately, but this was no place for the plans he was making. A small sound of frustration escaped him.

He pulled back, and looked into dazed eyes. "Time to go," he said, reaching to pull the keys from the ignition. "Jim?"

"Hmmm?"

Blair chuckled. "Earth to Ellison," he said, feeling suddenly brave. Feeling like the world was at his feet. "Unless you want me to fuck you silly right here in the truck, it's time to move this party upstairs."

Jim's eyes widened at that, and regained a bit of focus. "You don't pull any punches, do you?" he said, starting to smile.

Blair shook his head. "I figure I have maybe an hour before you come to your senses," he said. "Move."

Jim moved.

They took the stairs two at a time, and after a bit of a struggle to fit the key in the lock, and a bit of a struggle not to laugh hysterically at what might've been considered an omen, they reached the privacy of the loft.

Jim was out of his shirt before the door closed. Blair turned the deadbolt, glanced back at Jim, then secured the chain as well.

"I'm not going anywhere," Jim assured his partner.

"I'm not taking any chances," Blair said.

He'd never seen anything as beautiful as Jim, half naked, looking at him with a mix of lust and humor and what might very well be love. That would be something they had to talk about -- later. Blair was not, however, inclined to ponder the intricacies of falling in love with a straight cop when said straight cop was currently trying to unbutton his jeans.

"Need some help?" he said, smiling at the look of intense concentration on Jim's face. "I can --"

The button came free with a sudden jerk, landing god knew where. "Or not," Blair said amiably.

And then he found he didn't have much to say at all, because as bad as Jim was at talking things through, he got an A-plus in nonverbal communication.

Blair wasn't quite sure how Jim managed to get his pants and boxers off while getting Blair out of his own, but suddenly there was a lot less coming between them.

Not that Blair was complaining.

"Are you going to get rid of the rest of your clothes, Chief?"

"What, you're not going to rip them off of me?"

"That's the only non-flannel button down you own, Sandburg."

"Suddenly you're the Blessed Protector of my wardrobe?"

"Somebody has to be."

Blair grinned. Point and match to Ellison. He stripped the jacket off, carefully removed his tie, and then...very, very slowly...unbuttoned his shirt.

When he was done, he raised his eyebrows at Jim. "You want me to fold it?"

Jim's answer was a growl. "Tease," he whispered. "Come here."

"I plan to," Blair said. "Repeatedly. And--"

"Shut up."

Blair didn't have a choice; Jim's mouth closed over his, and their tongues met, and the suddenly he had no desire to talk at all.

Blair sagged against Jim's body, sensation sweeping through him and turning his knees into something not quite solid enough to support him. Strong arms closed around him, holding him close. The kiss -- several kisses or one, Blair wasn't sure -- seemed to go on forever. First there were explorations -- then claims were staked, and then...

Then it became serious.

When Jim finally pulled back, gasping for breath, Blair leaned in and nipped at his throat, licking gently and then sucking hard. Jim moaned, his arms tightening around Blair's shoulders.

"God...that's good..." Jim whispered. "Yes...."

Blair smiled against Jim's neck. "You like this...?"

Jim didn't dignify that with a response, not a verbal one anyway; he tilted Blair back and showed him how good it was, burying his face in Blair's neck and returning the caresses he'd been given.

"Good answer..." Blair said. Then: "Oh, god. Jim? You better...oh, man, yeah, right there...." He fought for control, a losing battle, and pushed hard at Jim's shoulders.

"Problem?"

"Just...gotta hang on here....too much too fast," Blair said, struggling for breath.

"You want to..."

"Oh, definitely."

Jim smirked. "I was going to say, 'You want to move upstairs?'"

Blair grinned. "That, too."

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"You're not moving, Blair."

"Neither are you."

Jim's eyebrows rose. The kid had a point. "Couch?"

"Yeah..." Blair said, his eyes trailing down from Jim's, over his throat, to the broad expanse of chest below. "...whatever...just fast, okay?"

"Fast it is."

Jim didn't hesitate. Blair found himself lifted in strong arms; they were halfway up the stairs before he knew what was happening. The other half of the trip, he spent working his mouth from Jim's neck to his nipples. Luckily, they'd reached the top before he reached his goal.

"Jesus, Blair...I could've dropped you!" Jim said, shuddering under the continued assault.

"Never," Blair mumbled, tongue stroking softly over a peaked nub, loving the trembling, moaning response from the man who held him. Jim would never drop him, never hurt him... It was beyond the realm of possibility, not even worth considering.

"You trust me," Jim said, his voice rough with emotion. "God, Blair. Do you know what that means to me? Do you know--" He swallowed, took a deep breath. When he spoke again his voice was even lower, almost a growl. "Do you know what that does to me?"

"I can't help it," Blair mumbled against Jim's skin, nearly incoherent. "I love you."

Jim groaned, his arms tightening convulsively. Blair sought and found Jim's lips, squirming against his lover's chest "Blair," he whispered. "Blair..."

Jim set him down gently, and Blair never lost contact. He wanted it all: The taste, the feel, the sight, the sound of Jim wanting him, needing him more than his next breath. Jim gave it to him, and more, and they fell together onto the bed, hands roaming over unfamiliar planes and skating over soft, sensitive skin. Jim gasped as Blair's hand found the rigid length of his cock and closed over it; Blair smiled, pressing Jim back into the mattress.

"I've wanted you like this forever," Blair said, wanting Jim to understand. He stroked the hard flesh beneath his hand gently.

"...yes..." Jim moaned, his hips pushing up against Blair's hand. "...please...Blair, I can't..."

"Yes, you can," Blair said. "You can hold on, and so can I. It's going to be good, Jim. So good...." He leaned down and claimed Jim's lips again, thrusting with his tongue, moaning into his lover's mouth.

Jim's answer was a wordless hiss as his arms came up, hands delving into Blair's hair and holding him there, plundering his mouth as his hips moved faster. Blair shifted, covering Jim from above, and moved his hands to rest on either side of Jim's shoulders. Their cocks touched for the first time, and Blair trembled with the effort to hold on to his control. Jim was half gone already; one of them had to stay focused...

But Jim's hands were on his ass, kneading, stroking, pressing their bodies together in an irresistible rhythm. With a sob of surrender, Blair let go, let Jim lead.

"Please," he said. It was his turn to beg, and he was willing, desperate for whatever Jim could give him. Jim rolled both of them to the side and moved into position over Blair, enfolding his lover in his arms.

"Ready?" he asked, reaching between them to close his hand over Blair's cock and stroke, carefully, gently in the rhythm they'd established.

"God, yes..please, Jim...I'm so close..." Blair thrust into the hand holding him, and Jim pulled it away. Before Blair could protest, the hand was replaced with a warm, wet tongue and easy, slow suction.

"_Jim_" Blair moaned, clutching at his lover's head. Jim sucked at him, licking, cupping his balls and rolling them between gentle fingers. It was good, so hot, but he needed more, needed... "More," he groaned, hips bucking upward, forcing himself into Jim's mouth. "Please..."

Jim's response was immediate, his mouth diving down and drawing back, taking him in and then sucking hard as he withdrew. His tongue was quick and firm, teasing the head of Blair's cock until it wept.

Jim pulled back, and looked up at Blair's face. "This is what I've wanted," he said softly. "Your taste. Everything else I could have, whenever I wanted, but I never tasted you until now...."

The words drove into Blair's heart, twining love with desire. "Need you," Blair gasped. "God, Jim, please. I need you. Need it. Take me..."

"All you had to do was ask," Jim said roughly.

Blair rolled over onto his stomach, waiting, grinding his cock against the sheets in his impatience. When Jim's lubricated finger brushed gently against the opening of his body, Blair had to bite down hard on the pillow to keep from screaming.

Jim whispered to him as he prepared Blair's body, words of passion and desire, things he'd only dreamed of hearing from Jim's lips. The fingers moving inside him were gentle, almost too gentle; Blair pressed back against them, moaning wordlessly, needing more.

Suddenly a sensation like lightning arced through Blair's body; he jerked, almost convulsing, and cried out. Jim responded by repeating the movement, and the feeling came again.

"Stop!" Blair gasped, his voice breaking, "Please, god, Jim...stop..."

Jim froze, "Blair? Did I--"

"No! Just...I'm....too close....need you....I'm ready, Jim. Do it. Please!"

Jim needed no further invitation. He leaned forward, kissed the back of Blair's neck, and positioned himself at the entrance to Blair's body.

"Okay," Jim said, rubbing lubricant over his own length once more, "Okay. Now." Slowly, carefully, Jim eased into Blair until he rested fully against his back. He ran a hand from Blair's shoulder to his hand, twining their fingers together.

"You...oh, you feel good," Blair said. "I didn't know...god, I had no idea, Jim...."

"I did," Jim said, starting to move. "I knew how you'd feel. I've imagined it so many times..."

Blair shuddered beneath him, loving the tenderness, but wanting more than that; needing to be marked, branded as Jim's even as he was branding Jim his. "Harder," he said, gasping for breath and pressing back quickly. "Fast. Do it, Jim."

Jim complied, thrusting in hard and fast, moaning. "This what you need, Blair?" he demanded in a rough whisper. "Is this how you want me?"

"Oh, god...yes....!" Blair slammed his hips up against Jim's searching for and finding the angle he needed, crying out sharply as the head of Jim's cock brushed against the sensitive gland inside him. He couldn't take much more...twisting his head, he reached back and pulled Jim down into an awkward, deep kiss, thrusting once with his tongue before pulling away.

His head fell forward, and he gave himself over to the wild rhythm Jim had created.

Then Jim's hand was under him, squeezing his cock, stroking hard, claiming every part of him...."That's it," Jim said, "yes, that's it. I can feel it. You're so close...come for me, babe. Let go. Let me see you..."

With a shout of release barely muffled by the pillow, Blair convulsed, his body no longer his own as he came, waves of sensation rippling through him as he spurted over Jim's hand.

Jim's strangled moan urged him back to meet one final thrust. Jim followed Blair over the edge, pulsing deep inside his lover's body as he shuddered through his own climax.

Long moment's passed before either could speak, and even longer before either could find any desire to. Jim wrapped his arms around Blair and pulled him in close to his chest, turning them to their sides. Blair moved deeper into the embrace, sighing with loss as Jim's softened cock slipped out of him.

"Shhh..." Jim whispered, lips close to Blair's ear. "I've got you," he said softly.

Blair nodded, folding his arms over Jim's and pulling him closer. He had a lot to think about, a lot to say, but not now. Right now, all he wanted to do was feel the strong, swift heart beating against his back, and the loving arms locked around him. There'd be time to think later.

Much later.

"I know," Blair said softly, tilting his head up for a kiss. Their lips met softly, with more love now than desire. "I've got you, too," he whispered.

"Yeah," Jim said, sighing into Blair's long curls. "You do."


End file.
